


Words of Love

by laCommunarde



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Death, Fire, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laCommunarde/pseuds/laCommunarde
Summary: Leonard Snart's feeling on having a soulmate at various points in his life.





	Words of Love

This whole soulmate thing was a sonovabitch. It was supposed to be so romantic, so the gossipy girls on his bus ride always said. But see, it wasn’t like the books always said. Love at first sight hardly ever happened, and when it did, it was more likely to be lust at first hard on. And if it was love at first sight, what’s to stop them from beating a person solid. Falling in love so fast was hardly ever smart. At least so Len thought, sitting on the bus home from work behind two twenty-somethings slightly older than him sucking at each other in a way that was sure to leave a dozen marks come morning. 

‘Sides, what if someone never did fall in love? With anybody? And by someone he meant himself. He wasn’t ever gonna be his mom, falling head over with his dad. The words on your flesh being what the person said that makes you realize you’re in love in them, supposedly wherever it was they were going to touch a person next but everyone knew that was BS. Love was something that made people idiots and narrowed one’s field of vision to one’s one and only (there must have been some people with more than one soulmate, he would bet money he didn’t have on it), and to him, there was little differentiating it from a thing one caught that lowered one’s defenses.

And yet, there the words were, written on his back and shoulders, across his chest and his stomach, and faintly up his face. “Lenny, what are you…? Why’s the place on fire? Oh… oh shit. Snart, why are you saving me? I fucked up,” written on his chest, stomach and one shoulder. “Nice… Boss, you didn’t have to search the world to get me the best present ever. You want me back in, I’m in,” written on his other arm right along his elbow, and very faint writing on his forehead and cheek with was so faint he couldn’t read it, just scrawl in blueish scars tissue. 

Which was definitely interesting to say the least, but not exactly what he’d call a normal love confession. And it sounded like he jumped into a burning building to save someone, which, yeah, no, he couldn’t see himself doing ever. Then, he must break up with them and gotten back together, because that was the only way he’d have multiple soulmate marks, which the gossips on the bus said was terribly romantic. They seemed to have an investment in him finding his soulmate too for some reason known only to them. One of these days he was gonna invest in a boom box to drown of their interest and put on some good rap music.

He doubted he’d be interested in the whole love thing, particularly with the whole, falling out of love and back into it on and off thing. 

\--

Years later, a job had gone south due to a mob fight having gone down on that very spot and the shoot-out having pierced several gas tanks – which thank Central, goddamn corrupt company and mob run city – and if anyone thought the job was still on after that, they had another thing coming. He looked around for Mick, star distraction and smart enough to handle himself on jobs, unlike so many newer recruits, and couldn’t find him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an orange warm glow that spoke of fire – the distraction. Mother fuck. Mick could handle himself except when there was unanticipated fire. Then he focused on nothing but the fire, the rest of the world narrow to just that, so Mick had explained to him, and he’d agreed to keep an eye out for him. If he didn’t, Mick would go up in flames too. 

Hell no. He wasn’t living without Mick. Mick was his partner, in crime, but more than that - he trusted Mick around Lisa, and around him and he trusted him enough to tell him things he didn’t even tell Lisa. He needed Mick next to him.

He turned and ran into the building where he had last seen Mick. 

Mick was in the center of the fire, staring at it in wonder as the flames were licking his arms back and legs. Len grabbed a tarp, darted through the fire surrounding Mick and draped Mick’s body over his shoulder to get him out of there.

Mick started stirring once they got out of the building and away from the fire. “Lenny, what are you…? Why’s the place on fire?” Shit, Mick was still facing the fire, but at least Len was moving them both away from it and the heat.

“Oh… oh shit!” There was panic in Mick’s voice. Len would deal with that later, once they were far enough away.

Mick tried to push himself away from Len. “Snart, why are you saving me? I fucked up.”

“Stop moving, Mick. Makes carrying you difficult.”

“Why’re you saving me if you’re just going to put a bullet through me? I fucked up a job.”

“The job was off. There was too much gas. And the place was gonna be crawling with cops in just a half hour. I said it over the…” Len’s voice left off, seeing the frayed wire on Mick’s walkie talkie. And then his eyes drifted over the burned flesh.

He was killing the new tech kid who was supposed to check these things.

“I fucked up, boss. Ya should have just left me…” Mick murmured.

“Shh, Mick.” Len put a hand on Mick’s forehead.

Len got them over the hill and into the getaway car. He loaded Mick’s body into the back, still murmuring things about how he fucked up. “Drive,” he ordered the driver, climbing into the car. Mick began whimpering something about it being cold. “To the hospital.” The expression he was giving the driver kept any protests silent if the driver had had any. 

Len knew one thing: he didn’t want to lose Mick. 

It was only once he had gotten Mick to the hospital and on the ICU bed that he realized what Mick had said in his half-delirious murmuring.

And like the coward he knew he was around any emotion, Len fled.

\--

He kept doing jobs without Mick, arranging teams, that sort of thing that he had usually left to Mick, who was better at it, or at least got more competent, less wet-blanket, much less likely to lose their temper people. After one bad incident of the last type, which ended with his gun against the short-tempered person’s head and the short-tempered person on the ground with his brains splatter against the fridge in the lay-low warehouse, Len was cursing himself over his bad luck: Mick was such a good partner and second-in-command, after all. Why he had to go ruin things by falling in love with the man was proof of a malevolent god or maybe karma coming back to bite him in the ass.

He disbanded the team, sent them off with their money to go spend it god knows where and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before determined that he should probably clean the fridge off, bleach it good and proper, because even with the team having disposed of the body, the fridge still had blood on it. So he scrubbed it with a rag dipped in bleach, kneeling on the concrete as he had when his dad had ordered him to scrub the blood away, lest the cops find it, and allowed himself to take a few deep breaths to try to calm his nerves. It wasn’t as effective as Mick was at it. He got up when it was done, looked at the fridge to make sure it was clean, and then kicked an oil can filled with contraband and woodchips that was next to the slop sink in the warehouse. Then, taking another breath, he took out his blueprints to plan how to best get at a very pretty, much desired diamond that was coming through town.

The following week, he got knocked down in the middle of pulling a job of the moving truck that he was very proud of having planned. When he was able to zoom in on what he done it, and saw that it was a man moving at top speed – interesting to say the least – he determined that if he was not going to be of a job, he was going to have to up his game. 

The black market of Central always had such interesting things – one of the perks to living in a city with the most research labs per square mile was that it was always easy to steal stuff from them, particularly as scientists, for the most part, did not seem to understand the purpose of locks. This time was no different. The fence brought him to a flamethrower. “I’m trying to slow things down not speed them up,” he told the guy, but already he knew that he was walking out of there with the flamethrower. He wanted to see Mick’s expression when he gave him the gun so badly it hurt. 

“This might be more your speed,” the fence showed him the prettiest, sleekest gun he ever did see. 

He walked out of there with both guns and was unsurprised when Mick’s first words on receiving the gun were: “Nice…” then turning to face Len with surprise, “Boss, you didn’t have to search the world to get me the best present ever. You want me back in, I’m in.” 

And that was the moment he stopped fighting his renewed love for Mick.

\--

A few years after that, after the Waverider, after his long journey among the stars and the timestream, after he finally found his way back to his Mick, he stood there drenched in the blue of the Oculus, Mick got up and embraced him, kissing his forehead and temple and cheek, clinging to him as if he would never let go and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The only thing Len really caught was, “I love you, man. Don’t you ever do anything that dumb again.”

Len brought his arms up around Mick’s shoulders. “I love you too, Mick.”


End file.
